THE WELCOMING PARTY

Leaving the big smoke and retiring to the country is a dream many of us have. This one went a bit awry on day one. Then, you have to laugh, don't you (or just go crazy!)

Submitted:Dec 7, 2006
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"The first day of the rest of our lives", Jack smiled when he
said it. He stood beside her on the verandah, looking across to
the blue horizon sharply etched around the outline of the
mountain range. "Bloody paradise."

"Let's explore it then!" Impulsively Jillian took her husband's
hand and practically dragged him down the wooden steps to the
grass. "Ten acres, and I want to get to know every corner of it".

Jack laughed, "Not quite, that gully's pretty steep for a couple
of old farts like us".

"Speak for yourself". With that Jillian was off, setting a brisk
pace as she wove down through the tall, skinny gums, determined
to reach the crystal-clear creek that marked their bottom
boundary. She'd spied it before, but only from the other side,
looking across the deep ravine. Now she wanted to really stake
her claim by sitting on the ageless rocks and dangling her
pavement-worn feet in the cool water.

But those same feet were her undoing, as she stumbled over an
ant hill, then rolled down the slope, her chaotic journey halted
by a rotting tree trunk trying to meld with mother earth.

"Oh my God!" Jack looked down at his wife of thirty years,
the one and only love of his life. Even under his trim white
beard she could see his top lip trembling.

"You're not going to cry are you Jacko? I'm not hurting, don't
cry. I couldn't bear it if I made you cry". Jack turned his
head, but the shoulders gave him away.

"You're not crying at all! You're laughing at me you old
bugger!"

"I'm not. I'm not laughing".

But he was. Jillian was what's euphemistically known as a
big woman. Her pretty face was still velvet-skinned and
unlined but she had given up any hope that her tall, wide-hipped
body would ever wear a belt again. She didn't mind because Jack
didn't mind. "More to love" he'd whisper as they kept each other
warm in their king-sized bed. But, covered in grass and a mulch
of leaves and twigs, Jillian had to admit that she probably
looked like a whale draped in seaweed. She started to laugh too.

Jack sat on the big log and leaned down to kiss her head. But he
pulled up fast, when he saw the pretzel twist her leg had become
." Christ look at your leg!"

Jillian followed his gaze. Still she couldn't see her leg. It
had done a 180 degree turn and was sticking out behind her. She
had to crane over her own shoulder to get the full impact of the
unhappy sight. She shrugged.

"Doesn't hurt Jack. How bad can it be?"

"Pretty bad I'd say, must be broken in at least a couple of
places to do a right turn like that".

Jillian shrugged again and tried to get a better look. No luck.
"Help me up Jacko". She reached her arms out and he came and
stood in front of her, knelt down and gave her a bear hug.

"Better not move darling. The pain might hit you. And we could do
some more damage".

They hung on to each other for a further minute, each
contemplating a personal dilemma. Will it really hurt if I
try to move? How am I going to get out of here? Jillian
could feel Jack's heart tap dancing against her generous bosom
and knew he was starting to panic.

She's too heavy for me to lift. I'd be dead before I got up
the hill! Jack wished he'd kept up his gym membership,
instead of joining the wine club.

"Let's face it love, we need help". Jack creaked his way into an
upright position and reached into his pocket. "Shit! I didn't
bring my phone. You got yours?"

"I'm not married to it Jack. I don't carry it around the house.
You'll have to go back up and ring from there."

"I don't want to leave you here by yourself."

"Well that problem's solved, at least." Jillian nodded in the
direction of the pair of dogs running towards them through the
dilapidated gate further up the hill. " What took you so long?"
their mistress bellowed. Crazy with delight at their new free-
range existence, they would have leap on top of her, if Jack
hadn't stood his ground.

"Oscar! Lucinda! Stop right there!"

They did just as they were ordered and looked around for the
approaching traffic the command conveyed to city-slick dogs.
When none materialised, they both sank to the ground and began to
sniff their way to olfactory heaven.

"They'll stay with me , you just go and ring for help".

Stalwartly, Jack started up the hill, but seconds later he was
back. "Who should I ring. An ambulance?" He looked at Jillian, a
mountain waiting to be moved. " Police rescue team?"

While they were pondering, the traditional Aussie bush cry rent
the air.

"Coo-eee, coo-eee"

"Someone's come! Someone's on the verandah!" Jack couldn't
believe it, help had arrived and he hadn't even made the call.

"We don't know anyone Jack. We only just got here. Be careful, it
could be the local axe murderer". The look on Jack's face made
the joke pay off big time. " Hey, this isn't the inner-city
Jacko, friendly is what the locals pride themselves on.
Remember the advertisement in the estate agent's window?
Live Where Your NeighbourIs Your Friend. You
said that's what you wanted, no grilles on the windows, no locked
doors. Looks like you got your wish."

So up the steep incline Jack trudged, prepared to be neighbourly,
and needing to tap into the local network. "I'm coming. Wait
there. On my way" he shouted.

When Jack came in sight of their wide-timbered dream house, the
one they'd left the smart city apartment for, he spotted the
caller. He was one half of a couple, his face as weathered as the
scribbly gum he leant against.

" Don't mean to butt in. Just thought we'd welcome our new
neighbours". The old bloke smiled through a mouthful of gums, arm
extended. His handshake was ,well, firm was the word
that came to mind, as Jack tried not to wince.

"Name's Morrie" He indicated the verandah and the trim blonde
standing on it. "This here's Cheryl, the missus". The blonde
waved, but nothing except the hand moved, certainly not the hair.
" Live at the end of the road, place on the hill. Used to own
most of this valley." His proprietorial sweep of the arm included
the house and surrounds. "Till the first missus left me. Had to
sell bits off to pay for me sins". He gave Jack a man-to-man wink
and indicated Cheryl with a backwards nod.

Thirty seconds in and I already know the story of his
life. Jack's city sensibilities didn't know what response
was expected so he just shook the hand that was stopping his
blood flow and nodded.

"Jack, Jack Munro. My wife Jillian's in a bit of trouble, took a
tumble down the hill." He pulled his hand out of his neighbour's
iron grasp and headed for the steps up to the house. "I'm pretty
sure her leg's broken, have to get her to the hospital".

"Have to get her up here first mate". Morrie was hot on his
heels. "Cheryl, call the ambulance service. Me and Jack are going
down to bring his old lady up."

Jack took a closer look at the old codger. His skin looked like a
crinkled brown paper bag and he didn't seem to have a tooth in
his head. But his eyes were lively,sharp blue pinpoints and he
had the lean, wiry build that often belied toughness and
strength. Jack decided it was worth a try.

"She's right down near the creek".

"No worries mate." Morrie tackled the slope with the finesse of a
downhill racer on skis. But his first sight of Jillian stopped
him dead. "Bloody hell!"

The immobile mound in front of him looked up at the expletive,
but before she could respond Jack appeared behind the human
Banksia man.

"Darling, this is our neighbour, Morrie, he's here to help."

"How?"

"We thought we might be able to carry you up. Morrie's wife is
calling the ambulance."

"I don't think that will work; do you Morrie?" Jillian looked at
the man she'd never laid eyes on before and flashed her
irresistible smile.

"Don't think so Jill, don't really think so."

"Jillian, the name's Jillian."

"Yeah, well I'm Morris, but it's Morrie to me friends."

"Of whom I'm sure you have many".

"Could use a few of 'em right now, couldn't we Jill. Your old man
and me got no chance on out own".

The big woman's smile became decidedly frozen.

"Scuse me, I mean Jillian."

Jack listened to this exchange in growing despair. Somehow he'd
let Morrie raise his hopes. All three sat in silence for a
minute. Then Morrie jumped up so suddenly he startled the dogs
into barking at him. "I'll get me tractor. We can load you onto
the tractor Jill and take it slowly up the hill."

Morrie was waving his arms about excitedly and Oscar took
offence. He put himself on guard dog duty, standing at attention
between his mistress and this interloper and growling through
barred teeth.

The Chihuahua was pleased by the scent of fear that wafted
towards him. He gave another rolling growl and looked at his
mistress for approval.

"Oscar, you fool, sit down and behave yourself." Jillian beckoned
the tiny dog and, tail wagging, he licked lovingly at her hand
then nestled down beside her.

"Right," Morrie's confidence reasserted itself, "tractor it is.
Back soon, get this sorted. You stay here with the missus."

Jack was tempted to salute, as Morrie headed back to the top. But
Jillian wasn't convinced about Morrie, or the tractor. "Bossy
little cocky isn't he. Seems a crazy idea to me. They only have
those little seats."

"He's just trying to help. Anyway, his wife's called the
ambulance service, they'll know what to do." Concern coloured his
voice. "How do you feel sweetheart? Any pain?

"I'd kill for a cigarette Jacko."

"No good trying that on me. You're not going to use this as an
excuse to give in again."

"You know, if I'd realised you had this mean, evil streak all
those years ago I'd have married Peter Walsh instead. Then I
wouldn't have ended up following you here to sleepy hollow,
falling down this dangerous gully and breaking my leg."

"No, you'd have ended up smelling of fish and cutting up potato
chips for the rest of your life."

"Ha! It's the seafood restaurant on Sydney harbour and
you know it." Jillian loved how Peter Walsh still got under
Jack's skin, even thirty years on. But there'd been no contest.
It was Jack, from the first moment she saw him. No need to
tell him I never gave a toss about the superstar chef
though.

Suddenly Oscar was up doing his Rottweiler impression again, as
two apparitions in fluorescent yellow jackets materialised from
the nearby trees.

"Heard you needed a hand" one of them called as they approached.
"Volunteer fire brigade". The broader of the two men planted
himself, feet apart, hands on hips, directly in front of Jillian.
"Bit of a tricky situation here I'd say Ern."

Ern the smaller man, looked just like a garden gnome;
big ears, bushy whiskers, fat cheeks, red beanie and all. "Well
that's statin' the bleedin' obvious Trevor." Then he remembered
his manners, leaned over and gave Jillian a friendly pat on the
shoulder.

"Don't worry love, we pulled a cow out of Heggarty's dam last
week. Only took us two days, and she had a broken leg."

Love wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. But Jack was
in no doubt. He turned away, clearing his throat theatrically,
shoulders shaking. Jillian logged another entry in her pay-back
file and said sweetly. "My husband's so glad you're here, aren't
you Jack? He's been talking about joining the volunteers ever
since we signed the contract on this place."

Trevor stood taller and held out his hand for Jack to shake.
"I'm the chief in this district. I'm the man to help you out
there."

"Thanks", Jack looked down at his wife, all innocence and
affability, "a lot. First question is though Trevor, can you help
us out right here?"

Trevor ruminated for a moment, sizing Jillian up as if he were a
removalist and she a grand piano. "Big problem this…big hill…big
girlie." He winked flirtatiously at Jillian, who had already
decided to push his head into a live hive, as soon as she could
move. " Me, well I hump sacks of macadamia nuts, lift anything.
But Ern's a runt." Then he gave Jack the once over "and you're…."
Jillian waited with bated breath…" a bit past it. We'd have to go
up backwards. Might drop 'er. It's risky mate, but we'll give it
a go if you say so."

Jillian leaned sideways to tug at Jack's pants and
get him to have a private word. When the weight shifted slightly,
pain shot through her leg like a lightning bold, a millisecond
of agony. "Aagghh!"

"Jillian!"

"It's alright, it's going, it's going." She took a deep breath.
"It must have been the movement." She addressed the three men now
hovering in alarm. "But there's no way I'm letting you three
stooges lug me up that hill. I'm staying a still as these rocks
until real help arrives."

Jack didn't see why he'd been lumped in with the locals. Maybe
these two could understudy Laurel and Hardy, but youthree stooges was going too far.

"Out of the way Trevor!" The high-pitched command startled the
volunteer fireman into obedience and when he quickly moved aside,
Jillian thought she must have started hallucinating. Marching
towards her was a parade, led by a small, blonde- helmeted,
middle-aged cheerleader, toting a picnic basket big enough to
designate her as a weight lifter. Two more women followed on,
one with a fold-up canvas chair under each arm, the other
boasting an enormous, rolled sun umbrella, carried lance-like, in
the forward position. A group of eager children brought up the
tail, ready for adventure.

"The ambulance was off at the picnic races in Bulladella. Horse
bit some fool punter. They'll be a while yet. Thought you could
use a cuppa." Without further ado, Cheryl set the basket down,
lifted out a large thermos with a pump spout and pumped steaming
tea into a fat mug. "Milk and sugar? " she asked Jillian, smiling
politely as if serving high tea to a visiting bishop. Jillian
just nodded her assent, too stunned to utter a word. She
questioned Jack, with her eyes.

Replying to her silent enquiry, he made the introductions " This
is Cheryl, Darling, Morrie's wife. Cheryl this is Jillian. "

"Pleased to meet you Jill, welcome to the valley".

The prisoner found her tongue. "It's Jillian, Cheryl, Jillian".

"Oh, Ok, Jillian. This is Maggie, she's two down from
you, and her daughter Denise".

The mousey younger woman, now seated on the fold up chair, gave
Jillian a little wave, then reached into the capacious basket
for a mug and pumped hot tea from the thermos. "She's expecting
her first", Cheryl whispered. Then she called across to Trevor,
who'd distanced himself as soon as the women appeared. "That's
right isn't it Trevor, right about Denise?" Denise went bright
red and Trevor took a sudden interest in his boot laces.

"He'll do the right thing eventually" Cheryl confided in her
new-found friend. "Her dad's the local MP, has to approve all the
drought relief payments. Those macadamias need water and Trev has
to buy it in." She looked at Denise, now shaded by the huge
umbrella her mother had opened over her and wolfing down a ham
roll, "Needs to hurry up though, or the dress won't fit.
Lamington?" Cheryl proffered a plate of the delicious chocolate
and coconut- covered sponge cakes, and the mesmerised refugees
from suburbia took one each.

Jack bit into his, then remembered that he detested
lamingtons, along with Vegemite and beetroot, his gourmet
taste-buds bound to be misfits in his new surroundings. He was
saved by the chugging of Morrie's tractor, which turned all heads
and let him drop the cake, unnoticed.

"Take it slow" yelled Ern, as the machine wound down
the hill, trying to avoid jutting rocks and tree stumps.
Fascinated, the audience watched as the tilting angle of the
tractor grew more extreme, until it looked like a crab taking a
nose dive.

"Shit!" The ditch created by the dislodged rock custom-fitted the
huge tractor wheel and in she went, upending the seat and leaving
the driver suspended, legs dangling like a midget on a lofty bar
stool.

"Oh great! I was on a borrow for that tractor this afternoon, the
steering on mine's shot". Trevor started up the hill, in the vain
hope it was an easy rescue. Ern thought about following, but took
a sandwich out of Cheryl's basket instead and pumped himself a
mug of tea from the thermos.

"Morrie, are you alright?" Jack though someone needed to ask the
question, even just out of politeness.

"He's ok, tough as a rhino my old man. Tractor might be buggered
though." Cheryl was wiping at the nose of a raggedy boy, about
eight-years old. Unfortunately, he had Morrie's walnut of a face,
but when she finished and he smiled up at his mother, Jillian saw
the little frog turn into a prince. He ran up the hill after
Trevor, followed by Oscar and Lucinda, the dogs happily
abandoning their marooned mistress to join the group of
chattering children already using the tractor as a climbing
frame, the star attraction in what was fast becoming an adventure
playground.

"Wouldn't happen to have a cigarette on you, would you Cheryl?"
Jillian thought it worth a try, especially as Jack was up
consulting with Morrie. Jack, who couldn't tell a tractor from a
ride-on mower.

"Sure Jill, I rolled a few this morning".

Jillian was so nervous about coping with soggy paper and no
filter that the misnomer passed her by. Too late to back out
now. But when Cheryl lit up the home-made gasper and that
first puff of pure tobacco hit her lungs, Jillian let out a moan
of sheer pleasure.

"Good huh, Jill? Pure as it gets. Got a couple of me own trees,
well nearly as big as trees, dry and cut it meself. Morrie keeps
threatening to pull 'em out but he knows if he does I'm outta
here." Jillian didn't reply. She just floated on a cloud of
relief, as the tobacco flooded her bloodstream.

"How'd you get yourself into this mess anyway? A woman your age
should't be attacking gullies like this".

"I know that now Cheryl, but when I looked out from my verandah
this morning, saw all that space and smelled the eucalyptus in
the air…I don't know, I just didn't feel sixty years old, and as
fat as a hippo. I felt young and daring again. I even felt
slim."

"You're not that fat" Cheryl lied kindly.

"I'm fat enough to have to stay down here for… what time is it
now?"

"Half past eleven"

"For three hours. And still no one knows how they'll get me out.
I might just have to spend the rest of my life on this rock."
Suddenly Jillian felt very sorry for herself, and scared. Just
how much pain was in store when they did lift her?

"Would you like a shot? I've got a bottle of Johnny Walker in the
basket. Just for medicinal purposes, you know. In case you were
having a real bad time of it." Jillian looked at her companion in
awe, and nodded.

When the sound of the whirlybird tore at the air, Jillian and
Cheryl were happily enjoying a drink and a smoke and taking in
the activity around the tractor site. Even Denise and her mum
were getting in on the act and Jillian noticed that Trevor had
his arm around what was left of the girl's waist. The two blokes
who had the stretcher obviously thought this was the accident
site and stopped at the ditch. Until Jack brought them further
down, to his wife. Clearly, they didn't like what they saw.

"That leg will need real work Mrs Munro. I don't
know how we can move you out of here, but when we do you'll need
pain relief. Once the weight lifts off…" he left the rest to
their imagination.
"Not feeling a thing right now. I'm rather
comfortable actually". Jack caught sight of the empty Johnny
Walker bottle, and wasn't a bit surprised.

"Need a few details, may as well get the paperwork done first."
The paramedic referred to his notes. "Full name please sir ".

"What, what did you say? I can't hear a thing with that bloody
noise".

The news helicopter was hovering just above the tractor site and
semaphore -like signals were passing from the ground to the
chopper, causing confusion at both ends. The second paramedic
pulled out his two-way, adjusted the tuning and spoke loudly into
it. "Piss off will you Tony, get your picture later. We've got
trouble down here."

An answer crackled through the air "I've got a deadline to meet
goof-off. This is human interest" then he laughed, "bloody funny
pictures too".

"Give me that!" Jack grabbed the two-way and barked into it, like
the professional news room director he'd been, until three months
before. "I'll give you human interest and pictures, pictures that
will go national, with your station's logo all over them. Just
swing that thing around and lower a pulley seat to your mate down
here. Send the cameraman down on it, so he can get establishing
pictures from the ground and plenty of footage of your banner on
the bird. Keep the fixed camera running up there, so you can edit
for both angles. You're about to be heroes, boys."

When the bird swooped lower into the gully, everyone followed, so
that by the time the cameraman was on the ground he was
surrounded by kids, dogs, a shiny- yellow- coated firemen, a
garden gnome impersonator, Central Casting paramedics, a busty
blonde revealing plenty of cleavage, a wild old bushie, a couple
of sob sisters having a good old cry and a female Buddha,
bestowing that benevolent smile on everyone, through a haze of
smoke, alcohol and enough morphine to hobble a small horse.

What pictures! I'll get a Wakeley Award for this!

As she rose rather majestically to the sky, one leg strapped to a
board, the other swinging freely in space, Jillian could see it,
the whole ten acres, creek and all. In fact she could see two of
it.

"I'll come see you in the hospital Jill". Cheryl called up to her
cheerfully.

"I'll look after the dogs Jill, don't you worry". The little
prince already had his arms full of Oscar and Lucinda, who were
lavishing him with licks.

"We won't have the wedding until you're back home". Trevor gave a
wave and put one arm around Denise and the other around her
smiling mum.

Such wonderful neighbours Jillian thought, as she
drifted happily off again.

"You know what Trevor?" said Ern, as they climbed the hill.
"That's the way we should have got the bloody cow out of
Haggetys creek!".